


(i'm only me) when i'm with you

by jessewrites



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, Gen, Misgendering, Trans Character, Trans Stiles, Transphobia, it's shut down real quick tho, jackson is bad and we dont like him, scott mccall is the Best Friend Ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessewrites/pseuds/jessewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles Stilinski is five years old, he takes the scissors from his mother’s desk and cuts his hair. He laughs as long pieces fall to the floor, and his gap-toothed grin is huge as he looks at his new, short hair. It’s choppy, and his mother almost faints when he shows her, proudly, but he loves it.<br/>---</p><p>(or: the trans guy stiles au i've been meaning to write forever)</p>
            </blockquote>





	(i'm only me) when i'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> quick note: this by no means describes every trans person's experience! in fact, it's nowhere close to even my own experiences as a trans guy haha
> 
> also the scott/stiles is mostly just brotp until the very end, but it's still not super Intense u know? they're in eighth grade
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: misgendering, transphobia

When Stiles Stilinski is five years old, he takes the scissors from his mother’s desk and cuts his hair. He laughs as long pieces fall to the floor, and his gap-toothed grin is huge as he looks at his new, short hair. It’s choppy, and his mother almost faints when he shows her, proudly, but he loves it.

His mother decides that he can’t go to school like this. She takes his father’s razor and gives Stiles his first buzz cut. She sighs, but he thinks it’s the best thing that’s ever happened.  
“Thank you, Mama!” He says, and spends seemingly hours running his hands over the newly short hair.

Stiles overhears his parents talking that night, when he gets up to get a drink of water.

“She doesn’t even look like a girl anymore, Claudia,” his father says, and Stiles freezes. His dad sounds… disappointed. Not quite mad, but close. He creeps back to his room as quietly as possible. He isn’t really that thirsty, anyway.

Stiles learns that night, those months, what it’s like to hide a secret.

When Stiles is seven, he tells someone for the first time. His name is Scott, and they’ve only known each other for a few weeks. They’re at recess messing around, and Stiles feels like he’s going to burst from keeping this to himself.

“I’m not a girl,” Stiles says casually, kicking a soccer ball in Scott’s direction.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles says. “It’s just- I’ve never been a girl, okay? I’m s’posed to be a boy. It’s weird.”

Scott ponders this for a few moments. “It’s not weird. You’re like a superhero!” he decides.  “The boy part is just your secret identity or something, an’ the girl is your disguise so no one figures out. That’s so cool.”

Stiles grins and sends the ball back towards Scott. It’s the first time he’s ever felt normal.

At some point, Scott starts calling him “Stiles.” Neither of them are sure when or how the nickname originated (maybe seven-year-old Scott trying to pronounce Stiles’ last name?), but it sticks.

He decides that Scott McCall is going to be his best friend.

 

(When Stiles’ mom dies almost exactly two months after his ninth birthday, Scott is the one who helps him through it. His dad tries to help, but he’s too wrapped up in his own grief to do anything worthwhile. Scott distracts him when he needs it and listens when Stiles can’t contain his sobs anymore. He’s there, and he’s solid, and he’s all Stiles really needs.)

 

It works, Scott and Stiles and ScottandStiles. They’re rarely ever seen apart, and around seventh grade people start to make jokes that they’re dating. Scott finds this ridiculous for two reasons. One, he’s not gay; two, he’s never even thought of Stiles like that. He doesn’t say anything, though, because Stiles asks him to. _It’s safer,_ he says. _If people think I’m a straight girl. Please._

Scott doesn’t think Stiles is old enough to be worried for his safety.

 

Stiles gets his first real boyfriend the next year. Granted, you can’t really date someone in the eighth grade, but Stiles is fairly sure he’s in love. His name is Jackson Whittemore, and he’s tall and blonde and the star of the lacrosse team. They go to school dances together and pretend to be more serious than they’d ever consider in reality. It’s cute.

He’s Stiles’ first kiss, in the corner of the lunchroom when they think no one can see them. It’s chaste and awkward and perfect, and Stiles is left spinning.

“I love you,” Stiles says, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t mean it but it seems like the right thing to say

…

 

 **my gf <3 (4:22 pm):** _hey can i tell u something important_

 **jackie (4:23 pm):**   _are u breaking up w/ me?_

 **my gf <3 (4:23 pm)**: _no_

 **jackie (4:24 pm):** _okay then what did u wanna say_

 **my gf <3 (4:25 pm):** _idk how to say this but_

 **my gf <3 (4:25 pm):** _im a boy_

 **jackie (4:24 pm)** : _what ????_

 **my gf <3 (4:25 pm):** _im a boy. like inside and stuff. again i dont know how to explain it sorry_

 **jackie (4:26 pm):** _what are you talking about_

 **my gf <3 (4:27 pm):** _idk i said i dont know how to explain it but. i’m not a girl ok. my name is stiles & i’m a boy. like i should’ve been born a boy. i know this is a lot but please._

 **jackie (4:29 pm):** _oh god i’m dating one of those freaks aren’t i? those people who think they’re the opposite gender?? oh god_

 **my gf <3 (4:30 pm):** _jackson??_

 **my gf <3 (4:35 pm):**   _jackson please reply_

 **freakshow (5:01 pm):** _okay then_.

 

And so ends the longest and only relationship Stiles has ever been in.

 

The next day he walks into school and something’s different. The commons is too quiet, too still. They’re all staring at him; they’re whispering. He hears someone say “freak,” and he knows.

They’re all staring at him.

He can’t breathe. His heart is racing, and he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and everything’s moving too slowly and he has to get out of here.

(The rational part of him says, _No, Stiles, they can’t all be staring at you. There’s no way Jackson could’ve literally told everyone. He probably just told his little clique, and that’s only four or five people, you’re going to be okay._ But this is not the type of situation where Stiles can stop to listen to the rationalities.)

 _I have to get out of here._  He manages to get out of the commons, but his chest is getting tight and his heart is way too fast and-

Scott finds Stiles in the bathroom, crouched on the floor. He’s braced himself against the walls of a stall, and his breathing is heavy, and Scott is starting to get worried.

“Stiles? Stiles, are you okay?’

“He told everyone,” Stiles gasps.

“Who? Jackson? Stiles, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“They all know, Scott! God, I never should’ve told him.”

“Stiles, what are you talking about?”

“I told him. I trusted him and he ruined it and now I think I’m dying and oh God I’m dying aren’t I?”

Scott finally understand what Stiles is saying. His entire body chills, but almost at the same time he fills with anger. He steps back. “Stiles, I need you to hold on for a little while. I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“C’mon, pick up, pick _up_ ,” Scott murmurs nervously. When Melissa picks up he breaths a sigh of relief. “Mom? Mom, I need help.”

“Scott, are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine- it’s Stiles. I think something’s wrong with hi- her. H- She’s in the bathroom right now, and, and she says can’t breathe and that it feels like she’s dying. I don’t know what to do, Mom, and I… I don’t know.”  (He hates the panic creeping into his voice, and he hates calling Stiles “she.” It doesn’t feel right.)

“What happened?”

“It’s- I can’t exactly talk about it, but, uh, there are some rumors going around about her and she just heard them and she’s freaking out and she’s scared and I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.”

“Scott, you need to breathe,” Melissa says, calm and sure and firm. “It’s possible that Stiles is having a panic attack. Has she had one before?”

“Uh- yeah, I think so,” Scott says. “After hi- after her mom… left.”

“You need to help her,” she says.

Scott doesn’t talk for a while. “What do I do?”

“Don’t tell her to calm down. Tell Stiles to concentrate on breathing. Try to reduce her stress. Help her focus. And Scott? You need to keep calm.”

“Okay. Okay. Thanks, Mom.”

Scott hangs up without listening to her goodbye.

“Hey, Stiles? You still here?”

“Yeah.”

“I know what’s happening. You’re not dying,” Scott says, trying to make his voice reassuring. He kneels in front of Stiles. “You’re gonna be okay. It’s okay.”

“Then what’s happening?” Stiles chokes. He feels stupid for asking this, like he knows it’s happened before, but he can’t stop worrying. “Am I dying?”

“You’re going through a panic attack. It will be okay.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for a while. Even with Scott there, he feels like he has no control over his sharp,short breaths and dizziness and the overwhelming sense of terror.

The bell rings somewhere in the back of Scott’s mind, but he can’t bring himself to care about making it to first period. Stiles makes eye contact with him and Scott feels like Stiles’ panic is running into his mind and it should drag him down but it doesn’t. He’s never seen Stiles look so heavy but he feels like he’s flying. Stiles is okay, and so he’s okay.

“Stiles, breathe,” he says, and he holds him and promises that it’ll be okay. Luckily (thankfully) Stiles’ breaths begin to even out. He falls into Scott, his chin fitting into Scott’s shoulder with almost familiar ease. After a little while, even the shaking of Stiles’ hand in Scott’s own starts to subside.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Scott asks, after Stiles has mostly calmed down. “It’s okay if you dont.”

“I told Jackson that… that I’m a boy and I- he-“

Stiles doesn’t finish, and Scott doesn’t need him to.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”

They sit like that for a while. Scott doesn’t realize how much time has passed until the bell rings again. It’s almost second period, now, but Scott doesn’t want to get up. Stiles is folded against him and he’s never felt more comfortable in his life.

“Stiles?” Someone says, talking into the bathroom. Scott can feel Stiles tense against him.

“What do you want, Jackson? We’re just… talking.” Scott knows Jackson knows he’s lying.

“Dudes don’t gossip with their friends in here. That’s a girl thing, which they do in the GIRL’S bathroom. You should know that, you’ve only gone there all your life,” Jackson sneers.

“Go away,” Scott hisses. Stiles jams his eyes shut, presses against Scott as hard as he can.

“Sorry, Scott, but just ‘cause you’re here doesn’t mean she can be. This isn’t some fancy party; you don’t get a plus one.”

Silence.

“Did you go blind or something, Stilinski? Last I checked, the door says ‘boys’ on it. As in real boys. Actual boys.”

Scott stands up with his fists already clenched.

“Shut up.” It’s not perfect, it’s not eloquent, but it gets the point across.

“Why? Afraid I’ll hurt your girlfriend’s feelings?”

Scott pauses, and he’s not sure how it happens but it feels good when his fist connects with Jackson’s jaw. 

___ 

“I- he started it,” Scott stammers.

“Well, he’s the one who-“ Jackson says.

“Calm down, boys,” the dean says, cutting Jackson off. “It doesn’t matter who started it. What matters is that you two will have to face consequences for fighting on school grounds.”

The next twenty minutes consist of Scott and Jackson staring at the floor while the dean lists every possible repercussion they can face.

“Detention,” the dean announces. Scott hasn’t been listening for the past few minutes, but he should’ve seen this coming.

“You will get this note signed by a parent or guardian, and you will stay after school tomorrow until four-thirty. If you don’t, you will face harsher punishments.”

“Yes, sir,” they mumble, and finally, mercifully, they’re released to go to third period.

Stiles goes home with Scott that day- his dad is working late again.

“Mom, don’t get mad, but I need you to sign this. I got detention,” Scott says, almost as soon as they walk through the door.

“You what? And, uh, Stiles- are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine. And it, the er, detention, it was my fault, Mrs. McCall,” Stiles blurts out.

“No it wasn’t, Stiles,” Scott says.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on? Scott, do you have a black eye?”

“I can explain, honestly,” Stiles says again. “Just… not right now. Is that okay?”

Melissa seems to get that they need some time to work it out, and lets them go up to Scott’s room. As soon as they get through the door, Scott grabs the laptop sitting on his desk. Stiles pulls it onto his legs as they settle on Scott’s bed. He waits impatiently for it to load. The second Google pops up on the screen, he’s typing.

“There has to be something,” Stiles reasons. “I’m just - checking things out. Theoretically.”

Girl who wants to be a boy.

How to become a boy.

Is it normal for a girl to want to be a boy.

After what seems like forever, a word in the title of an article catches Stiles’ eye.

“Trans-what?” Scott says. “Dude, I can barely see the screen. Move over!”

Stiles is almost yelling when he explains again. “Bro! It’s transgender, and it means I’m not insane! It’s real and there are other people and there’s a word and I’m not a freak and-“ ( **freakshow (5:01 pm):** _okay then._ )

”Stiles! Dude, take a breath. Seriously. This is great, but please don’t have a heart attack? Maybe?” Stiles’ eyes are so wide, so hopeful that even Scott feels something (he’s not quite sure what it is, but it’s high and free and sits just above his heart).

“Can I tell your mom?” Stiles says suddenly. a few moments after they’ve both fallen silent. “I mean, she’s a nurse, so she must have some idea of what it -what I am,you know? And with your black eye, and...“

Scott pauses, considering everything. “Yeah, I mean, I can’t see why not?" 

The words come out slowly at first, but soon he’s tripping over them as everything starts to rush out of him. When he finishes, Melissa is silent for a moment. She stays silent for what feels like forever, and Stiles starts to get scared. Images of not being allowed to be Scott’s friend anymore flash through his mind. Or, oh God, Melissa calling his dad or something. Just as Stiles is about to get genuinely afraid, she starts talking.

“Well. That’s… thank you for telling me, Stiles. And Scott, you did good today, standing up for him. But don’t let it happen again.” She laughs, wagging a finger in Scott’s direction. Stiles, meanwhile, is trying not to yell in excitement (or maybe he’s going to cry? He’s not sure). He knows it’s just three letters, just one word, but she’s an adult, a parent, and this has never happened before.  
He doesn’t even say anything, just grins from behind Scott. 

Dinner is frozen pizza, but it’s the best thing Stiles has ever tasted. They’re laughing and teasing and he’s just one of the guys and it feels more like home than his own room ever has.

Melissa lets Stiles and Scott have most of the pizza, and she laughs at them but somehow it’s entirely comfortable. She doesn't even object when Scott offers to let Stiles share his bed. (It’s not even a question at this point that Stiles is staying the night. He’s already texted his dad.)

"But you have to do your homework before you play video games," Melissa teases.

"Mom," Scott groans.

"And you have to keep the door open."

Scott and Stiles both blush bright red.

"Mom."

Melissa laughs, and Scott shuffles away from the table in an attempt not to make eye contact with Stiles as he puts his dishes away.

Not twenty minutes later, though, everything is back to normal. Scott and Stiles have “done their homework” -- about a math problem and a half, enough to convince Scott’s mom that they’re working.

The only thing they’re working on now is destroying each other in a game of Call of Duty. Stiles is protesting that it’s not fair because Scott has played it so much. Scott retorts by saying that you’re winning anyway, Stiles, why are you complaining.

They joke and taunt and laugh until Melissa’s yelling at them to go to sleep.

 

Stiles falls asleep with his head against Scott’s chest, just like they always do, but tonight’s different. Better. Scott’s heartbeat pounds through his shirt and it occurs to Stiles that it’s the steadiest thing in his life right now. He feels like he’s in a fairytale as he drifts off to sleep.

That perfect feeling is shattered at exactly six in the morning by Scott’s alarm clock. Stiles has to poke Scott awake, among groans and vague complaints about school.

They stumble down the stairs to the kitchen, where Melissa is cooking eggs. It feels so much like home that Stiles’ chest aches. Sure, his dad is cool, but his dad doesn’t know … about him.

They scarf down breakfast and wander upstairs to Scott’s room to finish getting ready. Scott digs through the pile of (probably) clean clothes on his floor while Stiles sits awkwardly on the bed.

“Dude, aren’t you gonna change?”

“I don’t have any clothes,” Stiles says. “I’ve worn the same outfit twice before. It’s fine.”

“No, Stiles,” Scott says. “You can wear some of mine. It’s cool.” 

Stiles tries to argue, but Scott insists. He ends up with some jeans and a tee shirt that Scott probably hasn’t worn since sixth grade. (Stiles insists that he will have a growth spurt soon. He will be taller than Scott.)

There’s barely time for both of them to shower, and they’re out the door with wet hair and half-finished homework.

“Have a nice day, boys!” Melissa calls, and Stiles doesn’t realize what she’s said until they’re halfway to the bus stop. He doesn’t stop grinning until the first bell rings.

… 

School doesn’t get better, but it doesn’t get worse, either, so Stiles thinks things are doing okay.

Then Scott comes into homeroom waving a flyer and looking more excited than Stiles has seen him all year.

“Dude, what’s up with you?”

“Lacrosse season! Tryouts are next Wednesday, and it’s gonna be like, a big deal.”

Stiles’ heart sinks.

“It’s boys only, Scott.”

“No it’s not! Honestly, Stiles, it says nowhere that…. girls can’t join. And you’re a boy, anyway! If anyone says anything, it’s their problem.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles says, and then the teacher’s telling them to sit down. “I’m fine.”

Scott insists on practicing over the weekend (“We only have a week, Stiles.”). They only have one set of gear – Scott’s, from when he played rec back in sixth grade. It barely fits Stiles, but it works. When they finally get around to practicing, it’s not really lacrosse - more like a glorified game of catch, with a side of wrestling. They spend an entire afternoon “practicing” at the school’s football field. It starts raining after about an hour and a half, but it’s fine. It’s perfect.

They crash into Melissa’s doorway only when the sun goes down. (It’s not that late – the October days end at about five – but still.) They’re muddy and wet and tired, but Melissa smiles at them as they track dirt all over the kitchen tiles.

“You had fun?” she assumes. Stiles and Scott nod and begin raiding the fridge for Cokes.

“You boys better be careful not to get any mud on the carpet!” Melissa calls, but they’re already collapsing onto the couch. At least Stiles had the good sense to take off his coat first. And most of the mud has already dried, anyway.

The actual tryout comes surprisingly fast. Stiles can barely concentrate during class (even less than usual.) He’s already told his dad, who had been excited, urging him to “go for it!”

(“Why shouldn’t girls be able to join the football team?”

Stiles knows he shouldn’t feel bad, that his dad doesn’t know, but it still comes like a punch.

“It’s lacrosse, Dad.”)

“Are you ready?” Scott asks, practically bouncing with excitement. It brings Stiles back to the situation at hand, but it doesn’t make him any less nervous.

“Dude, chill. And yeah. Did you bring your gear?”

“Yeah. This is so cool.” Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen Scott this excited about anything related to school.

Stiles just laughs at him, all the way down to the field.

He’s the only (not) girl there. There are long lines of macho jock-type dudes, probably with cheerleader girlfriends and that better-than-you smirk. If he’s honest, it’s a little intimidating, but he pretends he’s not nervous.

“Hey!” Someone from the line of jocks calls. Jackson.

“Why is the girl trying out for the lacrosse team?”

The coach has them all line up and do about eighty million drills and shots and blocks. Stiles feels like he’s doing an okay job, but he’s still not hopeful.

“The list will be up next Friday!” Coach calls. “Now get showered, and get the hell out of here!”  
The girls’ locker room is lonely with only one shower on. It’s kind of sad.  
\---

Stiles arrives about fourteen seconds late to school to find Scott bouncing in excitement.

“Dude, I made the team!”

Stiles can’t help but smile. “Bro! Nice! Did you see if I did?”

“No, there were too many people,” Scott says. He hopes Stiles can’t see that he’s lying. “You should go check. They’re clearing out.”

Stiles jogs over to where a small crowd is still gathered. He quickly scans the list once, twice, and he knows he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up but it still hurts.

He shakes his head as he comes back over to Scott, and bites back tears.   
“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “I didn’t expect to make it.” He doesn’t say: It’s because I’m a girl.   
“It’s not fine,” Scott insists.

\---

That night Scott and Stiles play lacrosse until it gets dark and Stiles almost forgets about the team. When Melissa finally calls them in, Scott asks if they can play video games until, like, midnight. (“It’s Friday, Mom.”) She agrees, although it’s not like a denial would’ve stopped them.

“Call of Duty?” Stiles asks, following Scott up the stairs. Scott makes a noise of agreement, picking the game up off the floor. As they settle into the familiar spot on Scott’s bed, he declares that he’s totally going to beat Stiles this time.

“You wish,” Stiles shoots back, and it’s so comfortable that the last shreds of disappointment seem to fall apart.

They’re really getting into it, complete with yelling and eighth-grade trash talk. Stiles mashes the buttons on his controller, shouting vague threats at Scott. He’s losing miserably this time, but he doesn’t really care at this point. (What he does care about, though, is the way Scott keeps scooting closer to him every time he jumps.)

“Dude? Getting kind of close there?” Stiles brushes it off with a laugh, gluing his eyes to the screen in an attempt to avoid blushing furiously. Scott pretends not to be startled and realizes just how close he’d gotten to Stiles.   
“Sorry, I, uh, I’ll move,” he says quickly, moving to scooch away from Stiles.

“Wait, no, dont,” Stiles says, mostly without thinking. “I’m cold.” (It’s a lame excuse. He knows it’s a lame excuse.)

Scott moves back towards Stiles, barely holding back a genuine giggle. He elbows Stiles in the side, laughing loudly now. Stiles winks at him.

“You knooooow you love me,” he teases.  They both fall silent. Neither of them talk for a moment, making an effort not to make eye contact with each other.

Scott decides that he can’t handle this awkwardness for one more second. He doesn’t think about what he does next, but before he can stop himself, he’s leaning over to drape himself over Stiles’ shoulder and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Maybe I do.”

Despite his efforts, that only makes it more awkward.

  
“But you’re… you like girls.” Stiles says. Even though he knows it’s useless, a million thoughts flash through his mind about Scott not seeing him as a real boy. Scott just shrugs.  
“Some boys are cute. Like you. You’re cute.”

Stiles, then, leans over and kisses Scott on the lips shyly. It’s quick and chaste and new, but it’s better than any kiss he ever would’ve had with Jackson.  
By this point, they’re both dying onscreen in front of them. Somehow, the sounds of gunshot and occasional screams of death don’t take away from the moment at all.

Stiles looks over, and they’re both giggling, and he can’t believe he was lucky enough to get Scott Mccall as a best friend. (Boyfriend?).   
  


They fall asleep like that, Stiles leaning on Scott’s shoulder, with the controllers still lying in their laps. Scott says awake awhile after Stiles dozes off. He still can’t believe how he managed to get into this situation. He’s fourteen and he’s got a cute boy asleep on his shoulder and things are okay. For both of them. He wonders if anything could be more perfect,or if he’s ever been happier in his life.

(When Melissa McCall comes into Scott’s room, long after he’s fallen asleep, to tell them to go to bed, she wonders the same thing.)

  
****

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! comment/kudos are much appreciated B)
> 
> title is from Taylor Swift's "I'm Only Me When I'm With You" its a total sciles song i'd recommend looking it up
> 
> (this was originally going to be 3 chapters, going through high school and college, but i had like 0.2 motivation whoops)


End file.
